I am impatient. Nearly two decades of living in New York City taught me to loathe long lines, inefficient service, and slow-walkers (if a New Yorker bumps you while you stroll down Fifth Avenue, you probably deserve it. Think how you’d feel if she went to your town and drove a Suburban 10 mph down a one-lane road.). When we first moved to Ann Arbor, I even stopped visiting one coffee shop because the barista was too chatty, greeting my order of a soy latte with “soy-tainly!” and then taking 15 minutes to mix my drink. Nope. Not before 8 a.m. Buy-bye.